The June Daring Bakers’ challenge was hosted by Jasmine of Confessions of a Cardamom Addict and Annemarie of Ambrosia and Nectar. They chose a Traditional (UK) Bakewell Tart… er… pudding that was inspired by a rich baking history dating back to the 1800’s in England.

The humble Bakewell tart is a simple pleasure. It is easy to bake and is the consummate crowd pleaser. I’m quite fond of frangipane too, especially when it’s freshly baked. Often when I make such tarts, I like to brush a bit of syrup on top of the tart while it’s still warm. It adds a bit of flavour (eg. use an Armagnac syrup, if you’re making a prune frangipane tart) and also ensures that the interior is moist. I also don’t mind saying that it’s nice to get the odd challenge where you have to think of nothing more complicated than what jam it is you’d like for your tart base.

However, time managed to rapidly sift through my hands this month such that the real challenge was trying to find a moment to make the tart. So unfortunately, this turned out to be a bit of a last-minute effort.

My version of the Bakewell Tart for this challenge uses a vanilla rhubarb compote as the jam option, and I have varied the filling to include hazelnut and black sesame flavours, which I prefer to plain almond meal.

Because frangipane is also extremely delicious as a tuile (spread thinly on a silpat mat and baked until crisp), I decided to throw together a parfait/verrine version of the Bakewell tart, with some toasted almond milk froth to boost the nutty flavour you would get from eating a normal slice of tart.

Many thanks to Jasmine and Annemarie for the tasty challenge!

Sweet shortcrust pastry :

225g plain flour
30g sugar
2.5ml (½ tsp) salt
110g unsalted butter, cold
2 egg yolks
2.5ml (½ tsp) almond extract (optional)
15-30ml (1-2 Tbsp) cold water

Sift together flour, sugar and salt. Grate butter into the flour mixture, using the large hole-side of a box grater. Using your finger tips only, and working very quickly, rub the fat into the flour until the mixture resembles bread crumbs. Set aside.

Lightly beat the egg yolks with the almond extract (if using) and quickly mix into the flour mixture. Keep mixing while dribbling in the water, only adding enough to form a cohesive and slightly sticky dough.

Form the dough into a disc, wrap in cling and refrigerate for at least 30 minutes.

Frangipane :

125g unsalted butter, softened
125g icing sugar
3 eggs
2.5ml (½ tsp) almond extract [I used vanilla instead]
125g ground almonds [I used a combination of hazelnut meal and ground black sesame seeds]
30g all purpose flour

Cream butter and sugar together for about a minute or until the mixture is very fluffy. Scrape down the side of the bowl and add the eggs, one at a time, beating well after each addition. After all three are in, pour in the almond extract and mix for about another 30 seconds and scrape down the sides again. With the beaters on, spoon in the ground nuts and the flour. Mix well. The mixture will be soft, keep its slightly curdled look (mostly from the almonds) and retain its pallid yellow colour.

To assemble, roll out the sweet pastry to line a 23cm tart tin. Trim the excess pastry, chill for 15 minutes, then spread the base with 250ml of jam or curd of your choice. Top with frangipane and bake in an oven preheated to 200’C for 30 minutes. Five minutes before the tart is done, remove it from the oven and top with a handful of flaked almonds, then return to the oven for the last five minutes of baking. When tart is done, remove from the oven and cool before slicing.

While out running today, I caught a glimpse of the perfect wisp of a cloud. It trailed like the fabric of a dress and hung in the sky, glowing with the orange of a setting sun. I can’t adequately express the emotions I felt when I saw this cloud, but it made me think that one day I would like to create a dessert that could elicit a similar reaction.

In the meantime, I have this strawberry dessert that seems to be missing a certain something, though I can’t decide what it is. It has strawberries, marinated in a little sugar, rhubarb strips lightly cooked in gingerbeer, gingerbeer jelly, some frosted pistachios, coconut snow and a scoop of lychee sorbet. It is light and refreshing with a faint hint of ginger from the jelly, which ties all the elements together. Yet, something in the back of my mind tells me that it’s incomplete.

Maybe it’s just a symptom of this general disatisfaction I’m feeling at the moment. There are currently aspects of my life that concern me but thankfully there are also certain people around I can talk to or have a laugh with, which enables me to stand back for a moment and think (with a little humour), How on earth did I get myself into this situation?

I was reminded of it when I read Helen’s recent post, and while my concerns pale in comparison to hers, I feel as though I can relate. So, I’m dedicating this post to her with hope that it will brighten up her day a little.

My adorable five year old niece was once spotted demolishing the icing off a cupcake, leaving most of the cake behind. When it was pointed out to her by her disapproving mother, she exclaimed, “But I love cream!”. Uttered in her small, high-pitched voice, we found this quote so priceless, that B and I have since adopted it as our catchphrase. So now when I admonish B about his butter : toast ratio, he replies in a mock squeaky tone, “But I love butter!”

As for the dessert above, it started out as a slab of Guinness stout ginger cake. The recipe is by Claudia Fleming and is an absolute stunner. Assisted by the Guinness and molasses, this cake is unbelievably moist and has great depth of flavour with the perfect amount of spice.

In the mood for something a little different, I dried slices of the cake in the oven until crisp and sandwiched them between vanilla ice-cream (because I love ice-cream sandwiches). The sandwich was paired with accents of dry caramel and chocolate, dollops of espresso pudding (a recipe from the Alinea cookbook) and a frothy leatherwood honey milk which tasted malty and earthy : just like the gingerbread. There was also a small amount of smoked orange syrup drizzled on the plate, though not quite visible from the pictures.

Guinness stout ginger cake? I love it, and think you will too!

Guinness Stout Ginger Cake :
(serves 8; recipe from The Last Course by Claudia Fleming)

1 cup Guinness stout
1 cup molasses
1/2 tablespoon baking soda
3 large eggs
1/2 cup caster sugar
1/2 cup firmly packed dark brown sugar
3/4 cup grapeseed or vegetable oil
2 cups plain flour
2 tablespoons ground ginger
1 1/2 teaspoons baking powder
3/4 teaspoon ground cinnamon
1/4 teaspoon ground cloves
1/4 teaspoon freshly grated nutmeg
1/8 teaspoon ground cardamom
1 tablespoon grated, peeled fresh gingerroot

Preheat the oven to 175’C. Butter a 9 x 5-inch loaf pan, line the bottom and sides with parchment, and grease the parchment. Alternatively, butter and flour a 6-cup Bundt pan.

In a large saucepan over high heat, combine the stout and molasses and bring to a boil. Turn off the heat and add the baking soda. Allow to sit until the foam dissipates.

Meanwhile, in a bowl, whisk together the eggs and both sugars. Whisk in the oil.

In a separate bowl, whisk together the flour, ground ginger, baking powder, cinnamon, cloves, nutmeg and cardamom.

Combine the stout mixture with the egg mixture, then whisk this liquid into the flour mixture, half at a time. Add the fresh ginger and stir to combine.

Pour the batter into the loaf pan and bake for 1 hour, or until the top springs back when gently pressed. Do not open the oven until the gingerbread is almost done or the center may fall slightly. Transfer to a wire rack to cool.